


Helping Hands

by TheonSugden



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M, homophobic slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:51:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5530031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonSugden/pseuds/TheonSugden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aftermath between Aaron and Ross, following mutual handjobs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This is set immediately after the Christmas robbery of a few episodes ago.

Ross pulled his trousers up, belt buckle echoing in a garage that seemed cavernous when it was quiet.

Aaron hadn’t said anything since Ross had asked him to get a grip.

And he had…just with a hand shoved down Ross’ jeans.

Ross let the cold water from the garage sink calm him down. If he’d needed to calm down. He was more just…zoned out.

He’d been cleaning Aaron’s hands, giving him a lecture on how not to get caught, not really noticing the weird stare from Aaron, since Aaron being weird was like Carly not bothering to wear knickers.

Even when Aaron had out-of-fuckin-nowhere kissed him, vice grip on the back of his head, Ross still hadn’t - maybe it was the beard. He’d never felt a beard on his face, cutting at his cheeks and mouth. It had been like a finger in a light socket.

Maybe he owed Aaron for taking the wrap over Robbo’s shooting, but he didn’t feel like it - Aaron always got out of trouble, what with the 500 inbred rellies and the local vet and pretty boy Sugden and half the rest of the village in his corner.

Maybe he was just curious, but he doubted it - enough of Finn’s fellas had sashayed their way toward him, and he’d usually (90% - the one that looked like Q in the new Bond movies he’d let give him a Blofeld or two) given them the brushoff.

“Aaron?”

Aaron not talking, way too focused on his sticky hands, made Ross nervous. Nervous he might tell Debs, which would be bad, or Cain, which would be change-your-name-and-face bad. 

Nah. Aaron wouldn’t do that. He had to trust Aaron…the way he always did, for some weird reason.

Maybe a joke would work. 

He leaned over Aaron, noticing he was still half-naked, jeans and boots near and boxers tossed on top of Dan’s favorite mug.

“Last year we were beatin’ each other up and now we’re beatin’ each other-”

Aaron looked up at him with the emptiest stare he’d ever seen. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled. 

Ross sat next to Aaron, putting the wet wipes in his hands, cleaning stench right up his nose hairs as he helped Aaron get started.

“I can do it meself,” Aaron growled, but he didn’t push Ross away.

Maybe that was why - he knew Aaron needed him. His laughing gallery family didn’t…even Debs really didn’t, deep down. She just put up with him so she could prove her dad wrong.

Maybe Aaron had only needed him for a quick wank session in a miserable garage, but he’d still needed him.

“Ross -” he said, wincing at the cold hard floor against his bare arse. “I’m sorry.”

Ross couldn’t keep the smug grin off his face.

“No you’re not. All you lot want me.”

Aaron glowered.

“Which lot is that?”

Ross put on his own sad panda face in imitation, saying what he knew would get Aaron out of poor-me and into fuck-you.

“Dingles…queers…”

Normally Aaron would’ve gone for a punch, and Ross might have taken it, but instead he just laughed as he unsteadily got up to get his boxers.

“You’re really shit at windin’ me up.”

He started as Ross spun him around, snapping the elastic in his underpants.

“Somebody has to do it,” he whispered, lips close to Aaron’s right ear. 

They stared nose-to-nose, waiting for the other to break, heavy breaths punctuating every unspoken word.

Finally, Ross cocked his head and moved in for another kiss, expecting Aaron to flinch or move away…not expecting it to be returned, needy and hungry and sloppy.

“I-I’m not gonna do this again,” Aaron said as he sloppily broke away, stumbling away to throw on his tight jeans. 

“You’re killin’ me ego here,” Ross joke-yelled…not as jokingly as he wished.

“Ta,” Aaron said, embarrassed, like he didn’t know what else to say.

“For what?” Ross pressed, wanting to hear it, wanting to know that the five crude fingers wrapped around Aaron’s shaft had been some kind of salvation…or at least a good wank bank memory. Anything.

“Y’know what,” Aaron said, refusing to give any more than that.

Maybe it was better to not get more, to leave it this way. He didn’t want Aaron falling for him or going all nutter on him. He just wanted…something.

“Eight inches of enlightenment?” Ross joked, patting the fat packet in his jeans for emphasis. 

“Ain’t got eight inches,” Aaron fired back, frowning to hide a smile.

“Yeah well…I was bein’ modest,” he winked.

And that was what did it - the first, and probably the last, genuine laugh and smile he’d ever seen on Aaron.

“Gotta go,” Aaron said, nervous and serious again.

“Aaron?” he asked before the other man left.

“What?” Aaron hurried to ask.

There were a lot of things Ross could have said, wanted to say, never wanted to say, so he settled. 

“Take care o’yourself.”

Aaron shrugged to hide his surprise.

“Keep this up and I’d almost think ya cared.”

Ross folded his arms over his stomach, saying nothing until after the garage door opened and closed, and even then, only said in a whisper so low even he couldn’t hear it.

“Maybe I do.”


End file.
